


A Hole in the World

by etcetera_kit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 09:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etcetera_kit/pseuds/etcetera_kit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Supernatural AU. Angels and humans were never meant to live together. Dean and Castiel accidentally meet at a young age.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hole in the World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WarpedMinded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarpedMinded/gifts).



> Happy holidays, WarpedMinded! I hope you enjoy this short musing piece based on one of your prompts.

**A Hole in the World**

Angels and humans were never meant to live together.

Sometimes, he felt like he was the only one in the world that knew this, but he _knew_. He couldn’t quit describe how he knew, but he remembered one day in elementary school. Most people did not think a memory counted as a reason—his own father told him that much time and time again. But his father was the reason he was starting all over at a new elementary school that year. Uncle Bobby said his father never got over his mother’s death and was restless, moving them around to escape the memories. He just thought his father was self-centered and an ass.

But that morning in school…

He arrived the first morning of school—first grade. The first day was like many others—stiff, new blue jeans, backpacks from the Hollywood blockbusters remotely appropriate for kids, lunch boxes packed to the brim, pristine school supplies still in their wrappers. His classroom was bright and sunny, with colorful bulletin boards and desks in neat rows. Everyone’s name was on the hook for their backpack (and, in the winter, their coat.) Their teacher had printed their names in large block letters and taped them to their desks. Back then, his only impression of his teacher was that she was tall and had brown hair. Years later, he knew she had been young and idealistic.

At age six, he did not know about the continuing source of tension in that particular town—the elementary school for angels was next door to the elementary school for humans. Then, he did not know that the children that went to the other school were different—at least, he did not have any evidence to support that claim. Rather, he only knew what the adults told him. Those other children were angels and different. He was human. They looked just like him. How could something that looked the same on the outside be so different inside?

The first day of school went much like any first day of school. His teacher introduced herself (Mrs. Harvelle) and took them on a tour of the school. She showed them the gym and the library and the cafeteria. They went back to their classroom and were supposed to color a picture of what they did over their summer vacation. He started to draw a moving truck, but then just scribbled over everything with a black crayon.

They ate lunch at their table in the cafeteria without incident. He didn’t know any of the other kids, so he kept to himself at one end of the table.

Recess came directly after lunch. The day was warm and sunny. That school had one of the old-fashioned wooden playground sets with swings, monkey bars and a slide, all connected by wooden walkways and with the gravel underneath that was supposed to break someone’s fall. A small group was always digging in the gravel. Others spent the whole time on the monkey bars. A few girls stayed on the swings the entire time, while their teachers sat on a bench and watched them from a distance.

What he did not know back then was that the playground was on a strip of land between the two schools and that children from the angel school often wandered over to their playground.

But he was new to the school and did not know which children belonged at his school and which did not. He was lonely, but going over to the other kids and trying to make friends seemed like such a herculean effort at that point in his life. He could not be sure, but to his small mind, his dad was distant and distracted and might be moving them again soon, so why make friends? His little brother had things better—he was only two and a half and did not realize the changes their father was putting them through. He was the lucky one.

He wandered over to the edge of the playground—the side near the angel school.

A boy his age was crouched just outside the edge, staring intently into a puddle of water. Leftover from summer rain storms or sloppy landscaping, he couldn’t say, but the little boy seemed fascinated by the water. He wasn’t splashing or attempting to play a game in the water—he was just staring intently into the puddle.

“What are you doing?”

He had walked up to the other boy without meaning to. The other boy looked up. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, both too big for him and slightly dirty. His skin was pale, like he rarely went outdoors. His hair was dark brown, almost black, and messy, like he washed it and then let the wind take care of drying for him. He looked up at his question and his eyes were round. And blue. So blue and deep and ancient… he’d never seen eyes that old and that fathomless.

“Looking,” he replied simply.

“Why?” He moved to the other side of the puddle and crouched down as well.

“I think it’s me.” The other boy smiled vaguely.

“That’s your reflection,” he replied. “It’s a picture of you.”

“A picture of me?” His face looked amazed. “I’ve never seen a picture of me before.”

“You don’t have pictures or mirrors?”

“No.” He looked sad. “The elders say they promote vanity and they are not allowed.” He tilted his head to one side. “What is your name?”

“Dean.”

He smiled slightly. “Hello Dean. I am Castiel.”

“Castiel?”

“Angel of Thursday.”

“Angel?”

A small part of him recoiled at the idea of being next to an angel, but he did not really believe that Castiel was an angel. He was Dean’s age and looked just like anyone else he knew. Except that he didn’t have mirrors or pictures, which was a little weird, but Dean’s kindergarten class had gone on a field trip to a farm that didn’t have those things, so people survived without them.

“Are there other things you aren’t allowed to have?”

Castiel gave him a curious look. “I don’t understand.”

“You know,” Dean pressed on, “Like toys and stuff.”

Castiel frowned. “My older brothers often take my toys. And they break them.”

“I’m sorry.” And he was. His family was only him and Sammy and Dad. He didn’t have multiple siblings to break his things. To his mind, that sounded awful. Worse than moving. “My dad made us move here.” He didn’t know why he was saying these things, but the words kept tumbling out of his mouth. “My mom died two years ago. My Uncle Bobby says that my dad is still really sad and wants to run. I know he’s sad, but I didn’t want to start all over again in a new school.”

Castiel intently listened to all his words, expression turning grave, even then, as a six year old. “I am sorry, Dean,” he replied simply.

There was really nothing to say, so he peered into the water. Their faces looked oddly distorted by the ripples.

“My older brother says that angels and humans are too different,” Castiel said suddenly. “He says that the angels must purge the human race or teach them our ways so they can survive.” He looked determined when he next spoke. “I don’t believe him. I think humans are wonderful, like you.”

He gave Dean the ghost of a smile.

“Castiel!”

The other boy scrambled to his feet at the sound of a teacher’s voice and ran back to the angel school. Dean watched him go around the corner of building, probably to get in line with the rest of his class. Whatever else he knew, he knew that Castiel was not representative of angels and his brother’s opinion was more in line with the angels at large.

Time and time again, he’d seen angels like Castiel’s older brother commit horrible crimes against humans, all in the name of reeducating them and putting them on a path that supposedly led to righteousness. He thought about Castiel and realized that the angel would have agreed with him—angels and humans were never meant to live together.

He walked down the street from his apartment one morning, years and years later. His apartment was on a city block that contained both the car repair garage where he worked and a coffee shop. He stood in line, giving his order automatically and then moving to the drink pick-up area.

The barista was new and… oddly familiar.

He had dark brown—almost black—hair that was messy and windblown. His skin was pale. But when he glanced up at Dean… those blue eyes… and he knew.

“Castiel?”

The angel just smiled at him as he made the lattes. “Hello Dean.”

“You work here.”

“Yes.” And in an undertone, he added, “I was told if I love humans so much, I could go be one.”

Dean had no idea what that meant.

“I knew I’d see you again.”

He had no idea what any of this meant, but he did know one thing. Perhaps angels and humans were never meant to live together, but there was one angel that could live with humans. And Dean was staring right at him.

Fin.


End file.
